After The Storm

The Aftermath of Care

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, my head pounding. The room was filled with a soothing scent, a mix of lavender and something else I couldn't quite place. Panic surged through me as I tried to piece together the events of last night.

Who did I go home with this time? This isn't like me. I'm sure I'm not like this.

I looked down at the person who was laying on my arm, peacefully sleeping and clutching my shirt. Alexa. Yeah, of course.

Why didn't I try harder to bear the feeling last night? I shouldn't have let the headache get to me. I should have taken better care of myself, and been more present. Regret washed over me as I watched her sleep. She looked so serene, so vulnerable.

I thought back to the events of yesterday. I should have been stronger, pushed through the discomfort. But instead, I had let my own needs take precedence.

I looked around the unfamiliar room; Gray-painted walls, minimalist design, everything is neat. The room exudes a calm, organized aesthetic, with fewer displays cluttering the space. One notable exception is a huge photo hanging adjacent to her bed. It features Ammielle in a fierce pose, wearing an all-white tuxedo paired with a samurai pleated skirt. In her hand, she holds a bottle of wine labeled "la dernière bouteille" — likely the name of their family's wine.

I carefully got out of bed, my body still aching from yesterday. The moment I stood up, the room seemed to spin slightly, but I steadied myself by holding onto the nightstand. I quickly changed into my clothes, trying to be as quiet as possible, and tiptoed towards the door.

"How are you feeling, dear?" a gentle voice asked, startling me.

Holy mother of God!

"Go-good morning, ma'am." I stammered, feeling caught off guard.

"Come and have breakfast. You're just right in time. Call me Abigail. I'm Alexa's nanny."

I walked behind Abigail, who moved with a grace that belied her age. Isn't she too old to have a babysitter?

"Oh no dear, I've been working with them ever since Alexa was born," she said, reading my mind with a warm smile.

"Did I say it out loud? I'm sorry. My head is still throbbing. I should get going, Abigail. Thank you so much."

The kitchen was a bright and airy space, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cooked breakfast. The table was set with an inviting spread of food.

"Oh no, please. I don't want to hear a complaint later on. There's a pill for your headache on the table. You should have something," Abigail insisted kindly.

"Bright morning, Abigail. Who's joining us for breakfast?" A deep, authoritative voice came from behind me, and I stood up instinctively, my headache momentarily forgotten.

This must be Alexa's father. They share the same eyes.

"Good morning, sir. The name is Ammielle. I am sorry for bothering you this early. I was about to head out."

"Call me Dan. It's alright. In fact, I am glad Alexa brought someone aside from Nam. I wonder how the kid's been doing. Eat, please," he said, his tone both commanding and welcoming.

"Thank you, sir," I replied nervously, sitting down at the table.

As I sat down for breakfast, Dan gave me a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous under his scrutinizing gaze.

"You have the same class as Alexa, correct?" he began, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee to steady myself. "Yes, sir. We do."